Understanding Cosima Niehaus
by alvbco
Summary: Darwin's theory manages to provide an explanation for a myriad of the strange happenings in our universe, but even Darwin himself would be confounded by the wonder that is you/ A teenage Cophine fic.
1. I am what I am, a natural disaster

The day Delphine Cormier arrived at Alexander Manchester High School on the East side of San Francisco was a Tuesday. Her entrance was largely unnoticed due to the majority of the school's inhabitants having already made it to class, noted only by Paulie Traden, a freckle-faced boy who wasn't on great terms with puberty and served as leader of the school's IT committee. He'd been walking to class after oversleeping from marathonning Star Trek all night and described his experience with her to have contained "unhindered desire. It was like I was Frodo Baggins and she was the ring and she was using her mystical powers to call me to her. I think it was her hair, it glowed like one of those L'Oreal commercials my sister likes. I had to stop myself from stroking it right there on the spot." Nevertheless, he didn't talk to her aside from the utterance of a stammered hello before he blushed and ducked into the bathroom. Her eyebrows furrowed into a look of confusion and she glanced down at her timetable, narrowing her eyes at the sea of numbers and words. As a military brat, she'd been shipped from school to school in her twelve years of education. She'd lived everywhere, from a small town in Australia that prided itself on its exceptional meat pies to a cabin that balanced precariously on the edge of one of the Rügen Cliffs in Germany. So when it came to the toils of navigating a new school, she knew the drill. Her usual plan was to find a lowerclassman that was nice enough to show her the ropes of the campus before locating a comfy chair in the library to make her lunch spot, preferably close to the biology section. If that wasn't an option, she was also impartial to the photography aisle, as well as the cooking wing, enjoying the pursuit of particularly quirky recipes for trial in her spare time (according to her parents, she was an imaginative cook at best, although to be fair, her French chocolate brownies were to be commended). She didn't ask for much, wishing only to get through high school with the best grades possible and the "Delphine is a puppy" jokes to be kept to a minimum.

The first err in her plan, however, came into play when she failed to accommodate for the presence of Cosima Niehaus in her life. Not that our poor Delphine could be blamed, of course, because she wasn't to know that such as girl would grow to consume her time. Cosima Niehaus was a paradox, you see, she was the kind of girl whose eyes were magnetic and tenacious and whose charm could make a stone gargoyle blush. Delphine first happened upon this wonder as she entered the school's office (only taking 3.68 minutes to locate it, a new record for her) and pulled her nose out of her personal planner long enough to catch the back of Cosima as she talked to what appeared to be the headmaster. She was all hand motions and stray dreads and, as phrases of their conversation floated towards the newcomer, Delphine was spellbound. She averted her eyes so as not to look conspicuous (thankfully nobody was paying attention to her, because she was staring at a blank page and it was less than believable) and listened to Cosima reason with the tired man.

"Okay, I know I'm in trouble sir, but I mean, calling my parents, really? That's so not cool, man. Can't we just discuss this like adults?"

He sighed and looked down at her, a 110-pound Junior who only reached his chin but was still managing to address him as if she were his co-worker. Delphine bit her lip to keep a chuckle from escaping as he rolled his eyes and the girl kept going. "Okay, you're a businessman, right? Let's think about this on a big picture kinda level. Sure, I missed out on my homework for a couple of measly weeks, but those three non-existent essays would have taken up the space in paper of what, maybe eight hundred and forty square inches? Now, to put that into perspective, the earth is 12478143744000 square inches, meaning that the space of those essays is one 14828453647th of the earth, which seems pretty meagre, right? To take it even further, the earth is an infinitesimally small percentage of our milky way, which is one of roughly 500 billion according to the Hubble telescope. When we think about it in the scale of things, you've got to agree that those essays are pretty insignificant when it all comes down to it. I mean, sir, no disrespect, but can we please chill with the whole third degree thing?"

He was about to respond but was cut off as he noticed (somewhat belatedly) Delphine's arrival and rushed over to introduce himself, leaving Cosima to escape undetected as she shot a wink in the stranger's direction and ducked out the door with a smirk. Delphine's eyes widened as some of the brunette's perfume wafted past, a delightful mix of something sweet that she couldn't quite identify and a sandalwood green tea shampoo that made her head spin in the best kind of way. When she cleared her head enough to direct her attention back to the man in front of her, she was whisked away on a tour of the school and didn't have time to think amongst the flurry of room numbers and bits of trivia that were being fed into her brain.


	2. Colours fading, frayed at the sight

Fifth period AP Chemistry that Friday was nothing particularly special. Two kids in the back were trading vaguely inappropriate notes (I'm not going to say it was sexting, but I think they took the whole idea of "chemistry" slightly too literally) and the rest of the class were huddled around their respective test tubes, undertaking the day's assigned magnesium and hydrochloric acid lab.

Delphine, on the other hand, was sitting by herself at one of the stations near the back, her earphones feeding a breezy melody into her head as she looked out the window at the trees drifting about daintily as if they mere dandelions instead of 100-year-old oaks. By then, the teacher had gotten used to her "accelerated learning progress" and didn't comment when she finished early, leaving her to her own devices as her fingers drummed a soft rhythm against the stained wood of the desk and she hummed along to the tune.

She spent most of the lesson in this fashion, losing herself in the folkier section of one of the playlists she made last summer, only interrupted when a piece of paper appeared on the desk in front of her. Before she had any time to do anything rather than utter a startled yelp, a boy she recognised from around the halls as Tony something-beginning-with-S materialised beside her. He offered his hand.

"Yo." He greeted her, his expression a wry smirk with the kind of cocky air about it that wasn't quite at the point of being offputting.

"Hi," she responded, taking out an earphone and reaching out cautiously to shake his hand. "I'm Delphine-"  
"-Cormier, I know." He interjected. "Did you really think somebody with hair like yours could manage to slip into this school unnoticed? There's been rumours circulating that you're secretly a postergirl for a high-end shampoo brand since the lunch hour on your first day and the Harry Potter dorks in freshman year want to use you as proof that 'veelas really do walk among us'." He did air quotes for the last few words and rolled his eyes. "My personal theory is that you're half golden retriever. I mean, I don't know how the technicalities work biologically and all, but it makes sense considering that you seem to have such an affinity for labs." He paused to snigger at his joke and Delphine opened her mouth to attempt a response. Before she could manage anything, he spoke again. "But anyway, I'm not here to get mad at you for overthrowing my chances at winning 'Most Likely to be the Muse for the Next Adaptation of the Popular Musical, _Hair_'. No, not at all. I'm here to cordially invite you to our gig tonight." He gestured down at the page in front of her. "It's perfect weather for it, don't you think? Almost _gig_glingly good weather," he added, chuckling. "See what I did there? I mean okay, it was a little weak, but anything beats this lame ass chemistry period."

Delphine tried to hide her frown at this; her afternoon periods of chem and bio were her favourite parts of the day.

"You look like a sad little doggy that just got kicked. What did I say?" Tony asked, bopping her nose with his finger. Delphine admired that fact that he was a totally cocky asshat of a boy, yet still managed to seem likeable overall. It was almost an artform. "Anyway, can you come to the gig?"

"Gig?" Delphine repeated confusedly.

He raised his eyebrows. "You're kidding right? You're a senior and you've never been to a gig? Do you, like, live in a dark attic or something and completely hate yourself?"

"Uh…. No?" she replied defensively, tacking on the reminder of "I'm French" for explanation. One handy tip for survival she'd picked up was pretending she wasn't in on pop culture because she was exotic and aloof instead of the alternative, which was that she'd never been one with too many friends. Well, that's not entirely true. There was that guy in Belgium who was training for the Olympic freestyle team, but he wasn't exactly the normal type of friend if you catch my drift.

Tony S-something sighed. "Look, just come along, you'll see. You, my friend, are in for a world of new experiences. Going to a gig is sort of like a religious experience that you didn't know you needed to have until you're there and you're soaking it up and you feel like you might die because everything in the world seems possible in that one moment and it's like you're flying."

She nodded slowly, assuming that his experience of whatever a gig was wasn't exactly the most sober of ventures. "Alright, then."

"Great! Okay, I'll catch you there. Goodbye, clueless French girl with questionably perfect hair." Tony was gone before she could even fully comprehend what she'd gotten herself into, strolling off down to the front of the classroom to fire the pencil previously sitting behind his ear at the teacher's back. Tony paused to shoot Delphine a grin that was equal parts charming and wolfish and disappeared out the door as she wondered how exactly he managed not to fail despite walking in and out of important classes as he pleased. It was a mystery.

"Au revoir, Tony whose last name I still can't manage." Delphine called back, catching only the last whispers of his footsteps as he left, and that was that. When he was well and truly gone, she looked down at flyer she'd been given, wondering who exactly the "Pot-Ass-Iums" were that dominated most of the text and promised a "killer" feature. Delphine was in the middle of deciphering the address through the sea of typos when another thought occurred to her.

"I still don't know what a gig is." She said to no one in particular.


	3. Burnt beneath the rising sun

**A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks to all of you for reading, I like each and every one of you more than everyone and their mum agrees that Larry Bloom is about as necessary as the "Connect to Facebook" option on Tumblr . Serious stuff, I know- you're the bee's knees. Anyway, I especially wanted to thank everyone who left a review- hearing your thoughts is the bomb diggity and reviews/follows/favourites are seriously appreciated. I hope y'all have a nice day and enjoy the next chapter! **

If you were to ask Delphine today about what occurred later that day, she wouldn't be able to tell you much. Well, that's not entirely true. She would, for one, still be able to recount with absolute clarity the exact shade of Cosima's lipstick, having certainly uh…. _familiarised_ herself with it during the course of the evening. She'd also be able to recall the skirt Cosima had worn for the occasion, right down to the type of material and the point at which it stopped on Cosima's thighs, a length that- while not altogether too revealing- certainly would've raised her father's blood pressure a few notches had Delphine been the one wearing it.

And most of all, she'd tell you, it had been the smell- the inebriating scent of Cosima Niehaus that she wanted to swim in forever. It was one she would soon grow accustomed to, able to recognise Cosima without sight or touch but purely the flurry her scent induced in Delphine's stomach and the accompanying pleasant thud of her heartbeat. You know, the one little cardiac nuance I'm sure everyone has experienced at one point or another- the quick double beat, as if her heart ceased for the moment to be simply a muscle but instead took on the role of a hostess, greeting Cosima like an old friend to say, "No, please- come inside! Don't worry; we've plenty of room. Make yourself at home!"

But I'm getting ahead of myself. That's not what I'm talking about- or at least not yet. We'll get to that all soon enough; don't worry. For now, however, I'm going to focus more on the events that took place _before_ Delphine happened across Cosima Niehaus that night.

Or rather,

as I like to remember it,

a compilation

of startling

and distinct

patterns.

The first was a sunny daisy print, one embroidered onto Delphine's favourite socks and peaking out from her trusty combat boots, donned to match the bright yellow of the button-up she had on beneath her overall dress. Such an ensemble was her armour for her brief soirée into the world of the almighty "gig" and the socks were tugged at several times as Delphine stood outside the bar, regarding it curiously as if it were a specimen under her microscope and she was trying to identify how it would be classified. She studied its intricacies; taking in all the details of the building one might miss- the initials carved into the bottom of the wall and the stream of people filtering past her through the doors that was composed of so many different types of people, all of them somehow seeming to hum the same kind of way. Most of all, she marvelled at the accidental beauty of the moment. Here she was, just another person standing on a San Francisco street on a fall evening in completely ordinary circumstances really. She was but a dot in a crowd, yet everything she saw was lit up with the electric exhilaration that bounced through the air around her, flourishing her vision with specs of golden light. It was wonderful.

She shared a conspiratorial grin with herself (the kind often exchanged between those aware of the great adventure they're embarking on) and walked through the door, bringing me to the next pattern- that of the drums.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The bass line seemed to leak out from every available surface (the walls, the floor, the ceiling), filling the otherwise grimy bar with a euphoric glow created only by the likes of a good song. It rippled out, undulating and swirling, and wrapped itself around each member of the audience, flirting with them, coercing them, beckoning for them to come just a little bit closer, to feel the beat just that little bit more. It was a seductress, one that took no time in reaching into Delphine's chest, gently gliding its way past her ribcage to carefully retime her heartbeat so that it correlated exactly with the drums with the kind of unabashed demeanour that Delphine couldn't help but admire. She imagined it tapping on her shoulder and winking at her impishly like some sort of musical sprite, willing her to follow it deeper into its midst.

So she did.

She followed it right into the depths of the final pattern I'm touching on:

The movement of the crowd.

Once in their midst, the energy of the crowd swept Delphine away like a powerful ocean current, relentless and overwhelming in its nature (but not at all unpleasant either). Suddenly, she was no longer Delphine Cormier and all thoughts of "I" were lost to the notion of "we". _We _dance, _we _sing, _we _lose ourselves to the beat. She was one with the rest of them, all unified by the identifiable aura that pulsed out from the stage as they vanished one by one into the haze of dreamy synths and sparky snare hits.

The vigour of the area was so tangible that Delphine swore it'd be visible on film and she whipped out her camera to take a shot, turning around to grab one of the stage to find that there happened to be a Cosima Niehaus gaze burning through her viewfinder. Delphine's hands fell lamely to her sides in a fashion that made her extremely glad she was the kind of dork who wore the wrist strap as she watched the brunette smile out at the crowd. Cosima tapped her foot in tandem to the music and lifted the microphone to her lips:

_Happy, spinning, clapping, laughing, dancing_

_In the blackness of magic._

_Get it, have it, bag it, throw yourself on the aeroplane_

_And fly like magic._

At that moment, Delphine wasn't close enough to be entirely sure but she would've sworn that she saw a distinct hint of nebula-related activity in Cosima's eyes.

They had an other-wordly quality that caused the poor French girl to seriously question who had come up with this phenomenon, the one who was able to send a shooting star right through from the top of her head (perfectly styled, in case you were wondering- what else?) to the tips of her toes as they wiggled in her daisy socks and good ol' combat boots. The enticement in Cosima's movements had the kind of vibe that had the crowd at a loss for whether to bow down on the floor for her or dance their hearts out but, before Delphine could figure out which was appropriate, there was A Wink.

From Cosima Niehaus.

To Delphine Cormier.

And most importantly- here's the kicker:

It was in the midst of the lyrics, "You and me, no one else, nothing else but us right now."

Not to mention, Delphine had heard offhandedly around the halls that Cosima was "totally into girls, in case you're wondering."

Not that this was at all relevant.

That's just something that happened to pop into Delphine's flabberghasted brain at that precise moment for reasons incomprehensible.

**A/N 2: For those of you at all curious, the song the Pot-Ass-Iums were covering is ****_You & I_**** by the butt-kicking Crystal Fighters. Thanks for reading!**


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